


Shelter from the Storm

by Lululemonee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Adult Themes, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betty Cooper Needs a Hug, F/M, It Gets Better In The End, Prostitution, Protective Jughead Jones, Strangers to Lovers, The coopers are horrible parents, the joneses are not much better, there will be smut, thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lululemonee/pseuds/Lululemonee
Summary: Jughead Jones has had a hard life from the moment he was born. He'd never shied away from doing literally whatever it took to survive.Betty Cooper has been led to believe that she was inconsequential and of no importance to anyone. She puts on a smile and show for everyone in her life.The boy who believes he is only worth what can be paid for him and the girl who believes she is worth nothing find something priceless within each other. Together, maybe they stand a chance.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 114
Kudos: 316
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay…so, don’t hate on me. I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and just had to write and post it. It will NOT interfere with my other story updates and it will be a fairly short fiction. But I couldn’t not write it. 
> 
> Credit where credit is due: This story was inspired by the brilliant fic Feast When I Conquer by 1sleepydormouse. I hope I can make this half as good as she made that story with only 3 chapters that exist. 
> 
> Please enjoy! 
> 
> Meet Jughead Jones...  
> Meet Betty Cooper...
> 
> Chapter One Song Choices : 
> 
> Jughead Section : Blue on Black by Five Finger Death Punch  
> Betty Section : Hollywood Forever by K. Flay
> 
> BTW : Unbeta'd. I need a beta. How do I get one of those?

Chapter One:

Jughead Jones had been only fifteen years old when he discovered that he had a surefire way to make fast money. He would never call it an easy way; no. It was far too mentally damaging and emotionally crippling to ever be called easy. In fact, it was the most horrible thing he could really imagine, but a fifteen year old kid living in a poorly insulated shack rather than at home with a deadbeat, abusive alcoholic of a father had limited options in the world and he was practical enough to recognize the opportunity for improved survival when presented with it.

At fourteen, Jughead had been hit with a growth spurt. He shot up to 6’1 seemingly overnight. Over the course of the following year, his body had filled out as well. He gained the lean build of wiry ropes of muscle that a kid from the Southside and a tough upbringing needed in order to protect himself. He had olive toned skin that was acne free, long, full eyelashes and hair that was dark and thick and always just a little unruly. From an objective standpoint, he knew that he was what some, most if he was feeling particularly kind to himself, would consider an attractive person.

Four months, almost to the day, after his fifteenth birthday he was brought to the uncomfortable realization that his attractiveness was, for lack of a better term, a bankable commodity.

He had been sitting on a curb outside of the Rick’s Gas Station in Southside, savoring a Twinkie that he had spent the last of his paycheck on. His next check from the Drive-in wouldn't be for three days more, but he had enough confidence in his ability to steal from the school cafeteria that he had allowed himself to purchase the frivolous treat that had no nutritional value whatsoever. He had just swallowed the last sugary bite when someone had sat down beside him. He turned his head to discover none other than his teacher, Miss Grundy.

“What are you doing out here, Forsythe?” she asked as she pushed her glasses up her nose, “It’s very late and a school night.”

Jughead opened his mouth to lie, but nothing would come out. Her eyes darted down to the Twinkie wrapper still clutched in his fingers.

“Is that your dinner?”

Jughead had looked from her to the wrapper and back to her.

“Are you okay, Forsythe?” she asked. Her tone had sounded genuine and concerned, but her hand suddenly landed on his thigh.

High on his thigh.

Too high.

“Um…” Jughead stumbled and fought to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Why don’t you let me take you to my house, Forsythe?” Miss Grundy said at the same time her hand began to caress his upper thigh, moving a little higher with each stroke, “I’ll make you a hot meal.”

Her intentions clicked into place in Jughead’s brain, but at the same time his all but empty stomach had let out a low rumble at the mention of food; real food.

That night, Jughead Jones received a piece of reheated Stoffer’s lasagna and a fifty-dollar bill in exchange for his virginity.

Two days later, he had been outside of that same gas station smoking a stolen cigarette and contemplating whether to save the thirty dollars he still had or to splurge on something as he would be paid the following day, when he noticed a middle-aged house wife looking lady eyeing him like a piece of forbidden fruit. As an experiment, he winked at her.

The woman had blushed and immediately looked away. He continued to stare at her and sure enough, less than five seconds later, her gaze had returned to his. As she chewed on her lower lip, she had approached him.

“Hello?” she said.

Jughead nodded his head to her in acknowledgment.

“I don’t…um…I’ve never…how does this…”

“Fifty dollars is the going rate,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel.

“I can do that!” she had replied a little too quickly.

Jughead realized there and then that he was probably undercharging and wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

And so, Jughead’s foray into sex work officially began. It was largely a learning curve based on trial and error. Each “client” was different and he also learned that he could charge different amounts for different things. He moved out of the projection booth at the drive-in and into a cheap, by the week motel that straddled the northside/southside border.

He also discovered that there was never a shortage of clientele for his particular profession, which was both fortunate and horrifying all at the same time. Every second-hand psychologist out there would try to pigeonhole him into some kind of Oedipal complex and say that he put himself into the position of sexual intercourse due to the abandonment of his mother and his obvious underlying mommy issues, but he didn’t buy it. Yes, his mother had grabbed his younger sister and split when he was eleven. She had left him alone with his abusive father to fend for himself. But in all honesty, he didn’t blame her. He didn’t particularly love her, nor did he hate her. Rather he felt a sort of anticlimactic indifference.

If he had issues, they were daddy issues. His father had used him as a drunken punching bag from the time he was tall enough for him to notice. When it came down to it, in Jughead’s view, the sins of the father outweighed the sins of the mother tenfold.

It was really no surprise that the first time he was propositioned by a man, he immediately vomited in a nearby trash bin.

He was better prepared the second time. He did ask for an absorbent fee for his services because he hadn’t wanted to do it. That experience taught him three things:

  * He would never bottom for a man again. He had found his line and he wouldn’t cross it a second time.
  * He could charge men more, _and they would pay it._ And
  * People could be twisted.



One sick fuck had told Jug how much he looked like his son before asking the price to let him suck him off while Jughead called him ‘Daddy.’ Jughead had spent almost two hours in a semi catatonic state at the bottom of his hotel room bathtub while scalding hot water poured over his body after that encounter.

By the time he turned seventeen, Jughead was jaded, cynical and borderline ruthless. He didn’t think there was anything out there that would shock him anymore and even less that he wouldn’t do in order to get paid. His morals were questionable at best. He had a slew of regulars, including Grundy. She preferred him to play the innocent ingénue when they met and he knew that he was almost too old for her, but he was also safe for her and that counted for something.

So it was that at the ripe old age of seventeen, he considered himself wizened and privy to all manner of sins, a keeper of secrets and a borderline degenerate.

So of course, that was when _she_ had stormed into his orbit.

Betty Cooper felt invisible despite the fact that she knew that to be the furthest thing from the truth. Everyone was looking at her; everyone was watching her; everyone had _expectations_. So, Betty has learned to smile wide and smile bright. She had taught herself how to plump up her cheeks and smize so that no matter the level of sincerity, her smiles always reached her eyes. She was bright and shiny and put together even if at night her body trembled and her hands shook. She was organized and friendly and helpful to her peers even as on the inside she was falling apart.

No one saw the mess that she actually was; no one took the time to look…and so she felt as the she, her true self, was invisible.

On occasion, she allowed herself to go dark, really dark and wonder if anyone cared for her at all.

Normally, the answer to that should be “why, her family of course!” But in Betty’s case, she wasn’t so sure.

Her parents were obsessed with appearance and the illusion of perfection. They had a tendency to speak _at_ her rather than _to_ her. Dinnertime conversation usually consisted of a quick interrogation of her grades and extra curricular activities before her mother and father respectively began to speak over her words and carry on a conversation with each other that had little to nothing to do with her whatsoever.

Betty had two older siblings.

Her brother, Charles “Chic” had joined the military the moment his high school diploma had touched his fingers. Betty received sporadic postcards and birthday cards but nothing more. He didn’t even come home for Christmas.

Her older sister Polly had gotten pregnant at sixteen. To say that her parents had flipped was equivalent to saying Nazi Germany was “a little strict.” They had, after the hurling of insults, accusations and a well placed slap or two, come to the conclusion that the best thing for all parties involved would be to send Polly to some reform school/convent run by a bunch of sadistic nuns straight out of the Salem witch trials. The evening before she was slated to leave, Polly had escaped through her bedroom window and disappeared into the night. With the exception of a voicemail from a ‘restricted’ phone number stating that she was safe, Betty hadn’t seen or spoken with her sister since. That had been three years ago and Betty had never even met her niece or nephew.

So, yeah, family wasn’t a go to answer for her.

If there was anyone who cared for her, it was probably Veronica Lodge.

Veronica was the one person in her life whose intentions she had never questioned. They had been fast and steady friends since V had moved to town during their freshman year. She had witnessed first hand the emotional degradation that Betty suffered at the hands of her parents and Betty hadn’t so much as flinched when Ronnie’s family’s criminal empire was exposed and her father arrested. It was Veronica’s stalwart companionship and dedication that got Betty through most days. But there were days, bad days, when even that wasn’t enough.

It was on one of those bad days that Betty first found her gaze wandering and lingering on Jughead Jones.

He was an enigma; beautiful and complicated. He wasn’t _exactly_ a loner. He had a circle of friends that he hung around, but even when he was in the thick of them he maintained a kind of aloofness that intrigued Betty with its familiarity. He was attractive and sauntered about with a confidence that let everyone know that he _knew_ he was attractive. His standard appearance consisted of ripped and faded blue jeans that should have been illegal, a well worn, well loved leather jacket and his thick, dark hair in disarray that V had subtly coined “just fucked bedhead.”

There were rumors about him that circulated through the girls’ bathrooms and locker room. Rumors that he was available for…rent?

Betty had never had any interactions with him and may that was part of his appeal for her. He had no ideas of her, no preconceived expectations of what or who she should be. She found that she wanted to speak with him; to have him acknowledge her existence; to have him _see_ her.

Her fascination with him had reached a point where Veronica had felt the need to address it. They had been sitting in the cafeteria at lunch when he had swaggered in with Toni Topaz at his side. The two of them had been whispering back and forth with each other and Betty had watched with no small amount of envy as Toni had thrown her head back and laughed at something Jughead had said to her. She had been unabashed in her staring when Jughead had suddenly turned and looked directly at her. Immediately, Betty had felt the tips of her ears turn red as her face had grown hot and she’d looked away. After a moment, she had chanced a look back at him to find that he was still watching her. He’d smirked before he ran the tip of his ring finger along his plump bottom lip in a move so blatantly sexual that Betty had felt the need to press her thighs tight together. Then he had simply winked and continued on his way.

“Okay,” Veronica had blurted at the exchange and pulled Betty from her distraction, “What is with the sudden infatuation with _My Own Private Idaho_ over there?”

“First off, I am not infatuated. And secondly, that is unsubstantiated gossip. You have no evidence.”

“Okay, fact: all rumor stems from at least a kernel of truth. That’s good enough for me. And as for the infatuation, B, you are staring at him like he is the last piece of cheesecake.”

“Shut up. I am not.” Betty said and forced a laugh as she threw a French fry at her best friend.

But the comment that Veronica had made about there being some semblance of truth to any rumor had started Betty to thinking. She had been watching Jughead for a while at that point, but after that conversation with Ronnie, she began to study him. She became obsessed with his mannerisms and habits. He checked his phone almost every five minutes it seemed and she wondered what it was on there that required such constant attention. He never really went anywhere with his friends after school. It was more than possible that he met up with them at some point later, but he always left on his own. Betty wanted to know where he went. She wanted to know why he was always on his phone. She wanted to know if he was as lonely and broken as she was. She wanted to know him.

It was one night after a particularly brutal confrontation with her parents that had ended with her being thrown into her bedroom by her ponytail that Betty decided the next day, she would approach him.

It was lunchtime. The bulk of the senior class, including Veronica, was gathered in the cafeteria to converse and eat. She had made an excuse that she needed to do some work in the Blue and Gold offices to dodge out on any unnecessary questioning and went in search of her quarry.

She found him around the back of the school by the dumpsters. He was leaned back casually against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette and chatting with a couple of his cohorts, Toni and a rather tall young man with a neck tattoo that went by the moniker Sweet Pea.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and steel up her courage, and then she approached the trio. They fell silent as she walked up.

“Hi,” she said.

None of them said anything in return.

Betty cleared her throat, shuffled her feet and then locked her eyes on Jughead’s, “Can I… uh…can I speak with you? Privately?”

Jughead smirked, a cocky half turning up of the corner of his mouth that elicited strange twisting thoughts in Betty’s mind before he took a drag of his cigarette and jerked his chin at Toni.

Toni nodded back at him, then reached over and grabbed hold of Sweet Pea by the sleeve of his jacket, “C’mon, Pea. Let’s give Jones and Barbie some privacy.”

Once the two were gone, Betty felt a large portion of her hard fought assurance drain. She shuffled her feet back and forth some more and stared down at the ground. Finally, it was Jughead who broke the silence.

“Already B. Coop. You wanted me alone, you got me. What can I do for you?”

His voice was nice. Deep and a little rough. She liked it. She tried and failed to make eye contact again, instead staring at a point just beyond his right shoulder as she asked, “Is it…is it true what they say about you?”

“What do they say?” he retorted.

“That you… you’ll…that, um… that you, you know…for money?”

“Why you wanna know?”

“I just…I… is it true?”

Jughead took another drag of his cigarette and stared her down. Betty finally looked him in the eye.

“How much?” she asked.

“Depends on what you want.”

“Just…I don’t…a… an hour? How much for an hour?”

He continued to stare at her. Then Betty watched his gaze travel from her eyes, down over her throat to her torso to legs and oh-so-slowly back up to her eyes. The entire motion had felt like a physical touch, a caress that had covered her entire body.

“For you? One hundred.”

“For one hour?” Betty had exclaimed. That seemed a substantial amount of money for one hour with someone.

“That’s a discount rate, princess. And trust me, “ he winked, “I’m worth every penny.”

Betty hesitated for a moment, calculated the current balance in her checking account. Finally she said, “Okay. Okay, deal.”

And Jughead smiled. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A paying customer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Here is the next installment for this one. I am really inspired with this but don't worry, I plan to update "Faithless" this weekend as well!!! Please let me know what you think. It is definitely interesting writing such broken characters.   
> By the way, I am so bad a replying to comments but I do read each and every single one and take the feedback to heart so please, please, please let me know your thoughts on the story. 
> 
> Song Choice: "Gasoline" by Halsey

Chapter Two :

“How much?” Betty had asked and Jughead had to remind himself to breathe.

He took a moment to steady himself and call upon all of those self-preservation skills that had served him so well thus far. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. He had become a master at giving off the appearance of confidence even when he was anything but. Inhale. And he replied.

“Depends on what you want.”

“Just…” he watched her stumble over her words as she turned the most delightful and tempting shade of pink., “I don’t…a…an hour? How much for an hour?”

He let his gaze run over her in blatant and obvious appraisal. Betty Cooper was beautiful; a goddam porcelain doll. She was the kind of pristine pretty that made a guy like him feel as though he’d get her dirty if he so much as touched her, that he’d some how soil her with nothing more than his bare hands.

She should have something better than that; better than trailer trash like him. He should scare her, send her away to somewhere safe from him.

But then the idea of one blissful hour with that lovely creature, one hour to put his hands on Betty Cooper… it was too much to resist.

He usual fee was not cheap and he could tell by the somewhat wild look in her pretty green eyes that she was just about ready to bolt. It he told her his actual price, she’d go. He’d have succeeded at chasing her away, which was what he should have done. Instead, in a moment of complete selfishness and temporary insanity, he blurted out his bottom dollar.

And she’d agreed.

He could still have done the right thing even after she had agreed to the cost. He could have made some snarky comment or said something crude to drive her away. Maybe he could have asked her what the problem was, whatever northside jock she was fucking couldn’t get her off so she’d come looking for a professional? But there was something in her expression that stopped him. There was a look behind her impossibly wide eyes that caused him to choke down those words before they had fully formed on his tongue. Betty Cooper had a hungry look about her, something almost desperate written across those otherwise delicate features. It was a look that he himself was all too accustomed to.

And so again, instead of doing everything in his power to send her back to where she had come from, Jughead stepped closer to her. He lowered his voice to a tone that was almost soothing.

“Couple of ground rules,” he explained, “bring cash. I don’t take debit cards. I don’t bareback-“

“What is…I don’t know what that-“

“It means I don’t fuck without a condom.”

“Oh my God.”

“Pay attention. After school drive to Pop’s. Don’t pull into the parking lot or anything but stop on the side of the road like you’re sending a text or something. When I leave, follow me. Understand?”

Betty nodded without looking him in the eye.

“I need you to say it, Cooper.”

“I understand.”

“Good girl,” he took another step closer to her, no more than six inches of stood between then and because he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and ran the lapel of her gray pea coat between two fingers, “and don’t worry, Princess. I’m a paragon of discretion.”

There was a significant part of Betty’s brain that screamed at her and demanded to know exactly what she was thinking? What was she doing? She had stopped at an ATM machine on her ways to Pop’s and had a fresh, stiff one hundred dollar bill folded in half in her pocket. She was about to hand that bill over to a boy from her school to spend an hour with her. Was she really that desperate?

The other part of her brain called up stored images of said boy when his bright green eyes sparkled with mischief and the way his dexterous fingers flew across the screen of his phone as he tapped out a text, the way he would sometimes stare out at nothing as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders even as his friends laughed and joked beside him. That idea brought to mind her own home-life; her absentee siblings that she never saw and the parents that didn’t give a damn as long as her grades were good and the town continued to believe that they had raised a perfect daughter. She thought about the way Jughead looked when he ran a hand back through that dark hair and the expression on his face when he thought that no one was watching; nervous, anxious, and maybe just a little lost…like she herself felt a lot of the time.

When it came down to it, she knew that she really had no idea what she was getting herself into. What she did know, as Pop’s neon lit diner sign came into view through her windshield, was that she wanted to be closer to him. She longed for a connection and there was something in her gut that told her Jughead could give it to her.

So, after she rattled off one text message to her mother that she would be studying with Veronica until late and another to Veronica to ask her to cover for her because she just needed a little time to herself, she guided her car to the side of the road by Pop’s diner. She spotted Jughead almost at once. He was leaned against his motorcycle as he sucked from the straw of a to-go milkshake.

She followed his earlier instruction almost down to the letter and pulled out her phone to pretend to type a text. The entire time, she peered up through her lashes and studied him. He didn’t seem to be aware that she had arrived. He had told her not to pull in but he had said nothing about how she was supposed to get his attention. She didn’t have his phone number. She had just started to debate whether or not she should accidentally lay on the horn or something when he straightened, took a long, last sip from his drink before he tossed the cup into the trash and mounted his bike. Had he seen her after all?

Without so much as an eye-flicker in her direction, he steered his bike out into the street and Betty found herself in a scramble to get her car moving and follow him.

The motel that he led her to was one story of about fifteen units. The sign declared it to be “The Maple Club” and boasted HBO and free wifi.

Jughead parked in front of the very end unit and Betty pulled into the space beside him. For a moment she just sat there and watched him as he kicked up a long leg and climbed off of his bike.

He really was fantastic to look at and it dawned on her all at once, she could have sex with him. Hell, that was what he was expecting. Her breathing increased exponentially when she watched him yank off his helmet and shake out all that hair. She forced her breath to steady, straightened her shoulders, called herself ten kinds of fool and clambered our of her seat.

She moved to the front of her vehicle where Jughead had stood waiting her for her and said, “I didn’t think you’d seen me at Pop’s.”

He smirked, “I have excellent spatial awareness. In my line of work, you have to…if you want to avoid getting mugged or murdered.”

Betty didn’t know what to say to that comment, so she said nothing.

Jughead didn’t seem to expect a response though. He moved to the door and pulled a keycard from the wallet in his back pocket. He already had it on him. He didn’t go to the front desk. That had initially struck her as odd until she followed him into the actual room. Once she was inside and able to look around and take in her surroundings, in all clicked into place. He _lived_ there.

The room was tidy, an outdated microwave sat atop a dingy mini-fridge, the dresser was lined with cans of soups, ravioli, instant mac-n-cheese and boxes of cereal and pop-tarts. There was a plastic laundry basket half filled with clothes perched on a wooden chair in the far corner and she could just make out the toiletries neatly arranged on the bathroom counter where the door was cracked open. Piles of books were stacked on the bedside tables and a battered old laptop sat on the cheap round table by the window.

Betty hurt all over. She constantly felt lonely but Jughead…Jughead was alone.

He crossed to the opposite side of the bed and peeled out of his leather jacket to reveal his beautifully sculpted arms. He hung the jacket in the closet and turned to face her. Betty felt frozen under his gaze.

Jughead fought down the multitude of nerves that swam in the pit of his stomach as he turned to face Betty. She looked so pretty and clean standing there in the middle of his room. He had broken a huge rule for her. He never brought clients back to his room, his home. He went to theirs, occasionally he met them in their car or they went to a different motel that _they_ paid for.

But there was just something about Betty. It was the same something that had kept him from chasing her off earlier in the day. He liked have her there, in his space.

She looked like a spooked animal. He chuckled.

“Calm down, Cooper,” he said, “Everything’s fine.”

She nodded. Then pulled a bill from her coat pocket and held it out to him in offering. His eyes went from hers to the bill in her hand and back to her eyes. He tilted his chin past her shoulder in reference to table by the window. “Just put it on the table.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her. She was a vision. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex for pleasure but he couldn’t seem to fight off the idea that that was exactly what his encounter with Betty would be despite the payment. She turned away from him to put the money on the table as he’d instructed and he took the opportunity to cross to her side of the bed and sit down. When she turned back around to face him, he reached out, wrapped a hand around the back of her thigh and guided her to stand between his spread legs. He had to bite back a smile when he hands had automatically settled on his shoulders. He deftly unfastened the buttons of her pea coat and spread the wool material wide to reveal her long, lean torso. He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater and ran the along the waistband of her jeans, the backs of his knuckles brushed against the smooth skin of her belly.

“Okay, Cooper,” he breathed, “you’ve got me all to yourself. What do you wanna do with me?”

“Can we…can… can you just kiss me?”

Kissing was something that Jug usually charged extra for. There was an intimacy that came with that particular physical act that he preferred to avoid with his clientele.

But as he looked up at Betty, he _wanted_ to kiss her.

He’d had a lot of clients over the course of his career, he’d even had some that he’d found attractive, but he couldn’t think of even one who had ever stirred within him the kinds of feelings that he felt when he looked at Betty Cooper. He _wanted_ the intimacy with her.

It was that very want, that desire, that set him on edge and had him throwing up his guard. He stood from the bed, but didn’t allow her to step back. The closeness served to emphasize his height advantage over her. It was a kind of power-play to remind her of her position. She only controlled the situation so long as he let her. He pushed her coat from her shoulders and down her arms before he tossed it over the backs of one of the cheap wooden dining table chairs.

“Sure,” he answered her finally, “how do you want it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The kiss, how do you want it? Do you want it rough? You want to feel like I’m about to ravish you? Like you’re so irresistible that I just can’t help myself? Do you want to feel like-“

“Like I matter.”

The simple sentence all but eviscerated him. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, instead her eyes stayed locked downward on her hands where her fingers played with the cuffs of her sleeves. God, this girl was trying to kill him. His stomach tightened into knots and he felt an unbearable clinching in his chest.

So, with a tenderness that he didn’t know he possessed, he slid his hands up to cup her sharp jawline, pressed his mouth to hers and eased her into what may have been the sweetest kiss of his entire existence.

Betty was hesitant at first, as though she didn’t quite know what to do. Then, he felt her muscles relax as her entire body went just a little limp and she seemed to melt into his arms.

His lips were soft and warm and unbelievably gentle and for a moment, Betty wondered how she had survived these past seventeen years without him. Each kiss was a request, never demanding, never taking, always asking. From the moment of initial contact to the moment he slid his delicious tongue against hers, he checked to make sure his actions were accepted. She twisted her fingers into his midnight locks, just as she dreamed of doing dozens of times. They were just as thick and soft as she’d imagined they would be.

And the, for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand or explain, she started to cry.

It was all just too much, too fast maybe. The years of emotional isolation all of the sudden come under attack by the soul-searing connection she felt with this beautiful boy. What began as silent but steady tears quickly morphed into body racking sobs.

The kiss broken, Jughead wrapped his arms around her and, as though she weighed nothing, lifted her onto the bed with him.

He laid them down on the bed and pulled her against him. Their legs tangled together as he reached back to remove the elastic band that held her ever-present ponytail in place. Betty began to cry even harder as he stroked his long fingers through her unbound hair. He peppered light kisses over her eyelids, forehead and cheeks and all the while cooed in her ear, “It’s alright. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

The rhythmic stroke of his hands and the warm breath against her face soon lulled Betty into deep, unexpected slumber.

When she blinked awake, it was dark outside the window. There was the pleasant weight of soemone’s arm over her waist and a pleasant smell enveloped her. The room was unfamiliar though. In fragments, it came back to her. Jughead’s hotel room. She was with Jughead. He was holding her.

She snuggled down and started to close her eyes against when the flickering red light on the bedside clock caught her eye. She sat up with a jolt and struggled to catch her breath. 11:03 pm.

_Shit!_

She had spent almost the entire night with Jughead.

As though he could hear her thoughts, her companion stirred from his own doze and rubs his eyes.

“What’s wrong? What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough and raspy and laced appealingly with the remnants of sleep.

“It’s late. We slept all day.”

He looked at the clock, “You’re right.” He said, then he reached for her and tried to tug her back down into his arms, “No point getting up now. Come back to bed.”

“No!” Betty said, her voice firm, though to be honest, all she wanted to do was just that, “I have to get home. My mother will… well, suffice it to say she would not be happy and it would not end well for me.”

She dove from the bed across the room to grab her coat. As she shoved one arm in, she notice Jughead had sat up in the bed and was sliding on his shoes. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’ll walk you to your car. This isn’t the best part of town.”

Betty felt her heart swell. How had she lived without seeing the wonder that was Jughead Jones.

After she had button herself back up in her wool coat, he followed her out to her car. She turned to face him when they reached the driver’s door. “Can I call you? I don’t know how this works…can I be…like a regular?”

“No.” Jughead said simply.

“What?” Betty asked and for a brief moment she was terrified she might cry again.

“You can’t be a regular, because you’re not a customer.”

Betty watched then as Jughead tucker her hundred dollar bill into the pocket of her pea coat and then patted it with affection.

“If I’m not a customer, then what am I?” she dared to ask.

Jughead touched her chin and brought her face up so she had to look him in the eyes when he replied, “You’re my friend.”

He put his phone number into her phone and then sent himself a text message so he would have hers. Then, he kissed her quick on the lips and opened her car door for her. After she slid into the seat, he placed himself in front of the door so she couldn’t pull it closed. He crouched down eyelevel with her.

“By the way, Cooper, there’s so something that you need to know.” Then, with three small words, he shook her to her very soul, “You do matter.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! Please, please, please leave me something to let me know your thoughts! Comment, kudos, questions! I welcome it all!!!
> 
> Kisses to all!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead and Betty only get closer, despite the outside world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song choices: 
> 
> "Bird Set Free" by Sia  
> "Waves" by Dean Lewis

Chapter Three :

Alice Cooper opened her daughter’s bedroom door and 5:57am. She was not gentle about it. There was no light knock at the door before easing it open. Instead, she pushed open the door and stepped into the room with little to no ceremony. It was a common occurrence, not unfamiliar to Betty as she stirred from her sleep upon her mother’s entrance.

“We’re leaving. Don’t be late for school,” her mother said and then breezed out with the same careless air that she had entered with.

Not once in her life had Betty been late for school. Not once. Her alarm was set for 6:30am and there was no reason for her mother’s wake up call.

However, for the first time…probably in her life, Betty was grateful for her mother’s compulsive inability to leave her alone. As soon as she heard the front door slam, a lovely herald to her parents’ absence, she kicked the covers away and rushed to her en suite to bathe. On a normal day, she would linger in the shower, take solace in the time to herself and the warmth of the water.

This was not a normal day.

Her days and her life would never be normal again. Not since she had let herself be touched by Jughead Jones.

And so, she sped through her shower, morning ablutions, and dressed for the day. Then, with the vision of Jughead’s small collection of food in her mind, she went to the kitchen. She smiled and hummed to herself as she mixed together the ingredients for chocolate chip muffins. She herself preferred blueberry, but she had a feeling Jughead would appreciate the chocolaty treat. Once the muffins were in the over, she turned her attention to nutrition. In one of her mother’s large skillets, she sautéed some peppers, onions, mushrooms and spinach before she beat together four eggs and poured them over the vegetables. In a smaller skillet, she warmed some seasoned home-fry style potatoes. She piled the cooked eggs and potatoes into a large flour tortilla, covered them in cheese and hot sauce then rolled the tortilla and wrapped it in aluminum foil just as the timer for the muffins dinged.

For the first time since she could remember, Betty guided her car into the parking lot of Riverdale High School with a sense of excitement rather than anxiety and dread. She climbed out of her seat and grabbed her backpack from the backseat. Inside of it was a Ziplock bag the held half a dozen chocolate chip muffins and the spicy breakfast burrito. Her offerings.

She’d practically skipped through the main entrance of the building, only to come to an abrupt halt, her path blocked by an appealing combination of olive toned skin, midnight black hair, and a single dark brow raised in a perfect, high arch. Betty offered a bright smile and yet again, in the first time since forever, she actually felt like smiling.

“Good Morning, V!” she chirped.

Veronica returned the smile and held out an insulated, recyclable go-cup that Betty knew held a non-fat vanilla latte.

“You’re looking particularly shiny today, my sweet.”

Betty took the proffered drink from her at the same time she dug through her bag, “Am I?”

Veronica nodded and sipped from her own coffee cup, a bright red swatch of lipstick left behind on the rim.

“Hmm…” Betty hummed and handed Veronica a muffin, “I guess I’m in a good mood.”

Veronica accepted the chocolate chip treat and crooked her elbow, which Betty dutifully slipped her own arm through. Arm in arm, the two girls began to make their way down the school hallway together. “Well, whatever it is that did it, Veronica Lodge approves. You’re positively glowing. It’s a good look on you.”

“Thanks, V. I actually _feel_ pretty good today.”

“Care to share with the class?”

The question brought Betty up a little short. Was she ready to share Jughead? There was a large, stubborn part of her that instinctually screamed _No! No! He’s mine!_ She had even opened her mouth with the intention to say just that when she met Veronica’s warm brown eyes. This was Veronica! The V to her B. Veronica who loved her without judgment or condition; Veronica who would do anything for her; Veronica who had supported her in everything since the very first day that they had met. Not only could she _not_ keep something of this magnitude from her dearest friend, she didn’t _want_ to. It was something too good, too precious to hide and she wanted to tell the only person in her life who would be truly happy for her.

“Well,” she began and took a moment to consider her word choices, “you know Jughead?”

Veronica looked cautious, “Uh-huuuuuhh…”

“I…spoke to him yesterday and we…spent some time together.”

“Oh, my God, B!” Veronica exclaimed and stopped walking.

“No!” Betty said quickly when she realized where her friend’s mind had gone. She refused to acknowledge that it was almost the truth until it had turned into something else, “No, no, no! I wasn’t like that, I swear.”

“What was it like, then?” Veronica demanded as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I don’t know…it was…he was kind and sweet and so understanding. He’s not at all like everybody thinks he is.”

“Oh, he’s not, is he?” Veronica asked.

“No. He’s…” Betty shrugged, “I don’t know how else to say it, V, he’s beautiful.”

Veronica’s red painted mouth scrunched to one side of her face as she fixed Betty with a rather contemplative look.

“V?”

“I’m trying to decide if I should be concerned or not.”

Betty smiled at that, “Not about Jughead, no.”

“Okay, alright, fine,” Veronica said with a roll of her eyes and relinked their arms to continue their walk, “if he makes my B smile like that, I _suppose_ he can’t be too horrid.” 

Betty leaned into her friend’s side to give her an affectionate nudge, “I love you, Veronica, you know that?”

“Of course you do. I’m fabulous.” The raven haired girl smirked, “And I assure you, the feeling is quite mutual.”

The girls reached Betty’s first period class, English that she shared with Jughead. So the blonde peeled off and Veronica continued on down the hall to her US Government class.

Jughead was already in the room at his usual desk. Seating wasn’t assigned but students tended to gravitate toward the familiar regardless. Betty Cooper seemed to be throwing that notion to the wayside lately. She strolled over to the desk in front of him, normally occupied by Toni Topaz and plopped herself down into it. Jughead didn’t notice her presence right away. As per his typical modus operandi, he was focused on scrolling through the messages on his phone.

“Do you have any food allergies?” Betty asked in lieu of a greeting.

The surprise on his face when he initially looked up from his phone screen to see her quickly morphed into curiosity punctuated with an attractive half-smile. “Nooo…”

“Good!” Betty beamed and laid the foil encased breakfast burrito in front him.

“What’s this?”

“Well, despite what Kellogs would lead you to believe, PopTarts are not sufficient morning nutrition.”

“So, this is…?”

“Healthier.” Betty stated and then laughed at the look of abject horror that crossed his attractive features, “Calm down. The good-for-you stuff is smothered in enough cheese and hot sauce that you shouldn’t have too many objections. _And_ after that, I brought a treat!”

She revealed the large bag of muffins.

“Blueberry?” he asked.

“Chocolate chip.”

Betty only just managed to pull the bag out of his reach when he lunged for it. “No!” she cried as she batted his hand away, “Sustenance first, then baked goodies.”

Those twinkling green eyes narrowed at her, “Tease.” 

“Not at all. You can have this whole bag, but you have to eat that first. Like a good boy.” The last part was tacked on with a mischievous grin that she couldn’t have held in if she’d tried.

“Careful, Cooper,” Jughead said and unwrapped the burrio, “I could get a little too into that.”

Betty actually felt it as her cheeks flushed red and her ears grew hot. Jughead’s eyes danced as he held her gaze steady and took a bite of the burrito, easily consuming nearly a fourth of it in one bite. He looked down in what appeared to be astonishment, “Okay, I’m usually more of a pancakes and bacon kind of guy but this is pretty damn good.”

Betty felt her stomach flip in delight at the praise. She liked watching him eat; more than that, she liked watching him _enjoy_ something that she had made for him. It felt like she was able to take care of him in a way-like he had taken care of her. She liked the idea possibly a little too much. She wanted to be the one to take care of him; of each other. He reached around her shoulder and snagged her coffee, then made disgusted face after her took a large swig.

“Ugh,” he groaned, “of course you drink girly coffee.”

“Oh, let me guess, you prefer yours _black and bitter like you soul!”_ she said with an exaggerated air of drama. 

“Got it in one, Coop.”

It was about that moment that the sound of someone clearing their throat broke into their reverie. Betty and Jughead both tore their eyes away from each other and looked up to find Toni Topaz staring down at Betty.

“Seriously, Barbie,” she snarled.

“Hey!” Jug interceded, “Relax, Topaz.”

Toni did not relax. She continued to stare Betty down and raised an expectant eyebrow at the blonde. Betty felt practically every muscle in her body tense. She had never been a fan of confrontation. She started to gather her things together, “I can mo-“

“No,” Jughead said simply and his long fingers curled around her bicep, “there are plenty of other desks, Toni.”

“Are you fucking for real right now, Jones?” Toni snapped.

“I said _relax_ , Toni,” he held out the bag of Betty’s baked goods, “try a muffin.”

“A muffin?” she repeated, her tone more than a little incredulous.

Jughead nodded, plucked a solitary muffin from the bag and offered it to her. Slowly, Toni reached out and took it from his fingers. Her large brown eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t know how I feel about this.” She said.

“Doesn’t matter. Enjoy your muffin.” Jughead stated and, as a signal that the conversation was over, he turned away from her to face forward.

Betty cast one final glance over at Jughead’s lovely friend. The petite pink-haired young woman fixed her with a steely-eyed glare and slid into the vacant seat to Jughead’s right. Betty had to work to swallow a boulder sized lump as her throat constricted tightly. She didn’t exactly relish the idea of one of Jug’s steadfast comrades disliking her with such vehemence. However, it didn’t seem to bother Jughead, so she spun around to face the front of the classroom and determined to not let it bother her either. Jughead was the one who mattered and he wanted her exactly where she was. That was enough for her.

Jughead couldn’t seem to tear his stare away from the hypnotic sway of Betty Cooper’s golden ponytail as she all but bounced off down the hallway to her second period class. She’d fed him; she’d thought enough about him that she’d taken the time that morning to prepare a meal for him—and she’d asked for _nothing_ in exchange. He legitimately could not remember the last time he had been _given anything_.

“What the hell, Jones?” Toni’s voice snapped from beside him, “Cheerleader Barbie? Are you serious?”

“Uh, okay, Cheryl Blossom-“

“Is about as far from a Barbie as the sun is from the moon.”

“You don’t know anything about her, Toni.”

“I know she’s perky, and peppy, and blonde, and shiny like a new toy-“

“She’s not a fucking toy!” Jughead glared, “And what are you saying? Do I not deserve something a little shiny in my life?”

“But she’s just so-“

“Off-limits.”

Toni’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slivers at that announcement, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“She’s off-limits, Toni. I mean it. Drop it,” he stated, his tone flat and decisive that left no room for argument, “I gotta get to calc.”

As he walked away from his friend, he tried to muster up a little bit of guilt for snapping at her the way that he had, but he just couldn’t seem to do it. Betty was good and pure and for some unknown, mystic reason, she connected with _him._ He would take that connection for as long as she was willing to give it.

He had almost reached his next classroom when he felt his phone buzz to life in his jeans pocket. The contact listing was familiar to him even if there was no actual name. Jughead took measures to protect his clientele; he never stored them by name, just the letter of whatever last name they gave him, real or made up, the first letter of whatever street they usually arranged to meet at and their age.

BB43: I need you. Tonight.

Jug battered down the urge to groan aloud in misery. Every time he received a message from a client, which was often, he felt a little older and a little more jaded by the world. He knew this life was something he had let himself into. He could make the argument that circumstance had forced him into it and people would buy that. He had an honest to God tragic background to back it up; broken home, alcoholic, abusive father, neglectful mother, predatory authority figures and no one to really turn to. But in the end, he was responsible for his own decisions. It still didn’t always make it easier to muster up the energy required to deal with his ‘career.’

This particular patron had unique tastes and proclivities that required even more verve and nerve than most. He wondered if he had that in him for the day. And then, as was usually the case, he let himself think about the payment and replied.

J: Usual place. 6pm.

A smiley face emoji was the answering text and it made him just a little sick to his stomach. Such an innocent image from someone whom even by his admittedly low standards, he considered depraved and borderline deviant bothered him on a fundamental level. It didn’t sit quite right with him. What it would do would be to cover the next couple weeks’ worth of rent at the motel. That was what kept him going deeper into the rabbit hole that had become his life.

Say whatever you wanted to say about Jughead Jones; he was a survivor.

It was just after 5:30pm when Betty walked through her own front door with a smile still fixed on her face. It had been a good day. She had spoken so many times with Jughead that she felt almost rejuvenated in his aura. One moment she kept replaying over and over in her head, she had stood with her back leaned against the metal door of her locker while he had leaned beside her, braced on one elbow while his free hand had twirled the end of her ponytail around his finger. They had remained in that position for several minutes, people watching and Jughead had made her laugh more than once with his keen observational skills.

“And here, Coop, we have the male of the species trying to assert his status as an alpha-male, but unbeknownst to his accepted societal mate of choice, his true tastes-” he said gesturing to Moose Mason just as the other boy’s eyes dashed away from his girlfriend, Midge Klump to zoom in on Kevin Keller’s ass, “run more toward his fellow man.”

Betty had stifled her giggle behind her hand and slapped playfully at Jug’s shoulder.

When the school day had ended, she had walked out with him to his motorcycle. They had lingered there for a bit and just enjoyed each other’s company. Jughead’s eyes had darted more than once to her lips, but he hadn’t kissed her. But even though he hadn’t touched her mouth, she had felt traces of his heat there. She had remembered the feel of him, the taste of him, and she had wanted.

She wanted still.

Once he had ridden off out of the school parking lot, Betty had returned to the building to put in a couple of hours in the Blue and Gold office. She had some formatting to do on the next issue and wanted to get a head start.

That had brought her to crossing the threshold of her home just a few moments after her parents. No sooner had she closed the door than her mother had thundered into the foyer from the kitchen and delivered a loud, resounding slap right across her face.

The books Betty had been carrying tumbled to the hardwood floor, her backpack slipped from her shoulder and joined them in the scattered heap. Shocked, Betty pressed the palm of her hand to her stinging cheek even as she took a stumbling step back against the door.

“Wha-“

“Did you think it wouldn’t get back to your father and me, you little slut?” Alice Cooper spat.

“I don’t know wh-“

“Throwing yourself at a piece of leather-wearing, Southside trash like that! Do you have any idea what people will say about this family when word gets out that you’re whoring yourself with that degenerate?” her mother seethed.

All of the blood rushed from Betty’s head at once and she paled. How did she know? How had her mother learned about Jughead? Maybe it was conjecture. _Leather-wearing, Southside trash_ was awfully specific for conjecture, but Betty fell back into her old habit of denial.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said.

“Oh, really?” Alice glared and crossed her arms, “So, you didn’t spend at least twenty minutes in the school parking lot today, leaning against a motorcycle and letting some greaser wannabe goon put his hands on you? You were _seen,_ Elizabeth! By more than one person! And they all just love to gossip and spread stories about me! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

At the conclusion of the statement, Betty’s father appeared at her mother’s shoulder. His eyes were narrowed and beady and Betty felt her anxiety twist into something more primal; something more survival driven. Fear.

“Your mother asked you a question, young lady.” He said, his tone low and dangerous.

“Lady?” her mother scoffed, “Not with that behavior, she’s not.”

Betty put her head down and hoped that they would interpret it as shame and regret. Penance. She made to take a step toward the stairs in desperate attempt to extract herself from the situation.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go to-“

Her father grabbed her by the elbow and caught her in the mouth with a solid backhand. Stars exploded behind her eyes and she recognized the coppery taste of her own blood. He must have split her lip. After the blow, Hal shoved her toward the stairs where she landed on her hands and knees with a _thud._

“Go to you room,” he lashed, “We’ll let you know when you can come down.”

Betty didn’t hesitate. She scrambled up the stairway and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Then she locked it. As she slid down the door to a sitting position on her bedroom floor, she heard a metallic clinking sound from within her coat pocket. She reached into her pocket a pulled out her car keys. Her mother had accosted her before she had had a chance to drop them into the decorative bowl by the door.

She didn’t question her instincts, didn’t stop to think things over. Instead, she climbed back up to her feet and popped open her window. For that night anyway, she was getting the hell out of that house.

Betty guided the car into the parking space just in front of Jughead’s room. His motorcycle wasn’t there. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. 6:48pm. She didn’t know where he could be, but surely he would be back soon. She rested her head against the stirring wheel and willed herself not to cry.

In what seemed like a blink but in reality was roughly twenty minutes later, a tapping on her window roused Betty. Apparently, she had fallen asleep slumped over in her seat. She turned her head toward the tapping to find Jughead staring at her through the driver’s side window. She pushed the door open and climbed out.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this,” she started.

Jughead shook his head, “Don’t be sorry.” He touched the pad of his thumb to her lip. His eyes narrowed and Betty saw his adam’s apple bob as he worked to swallow. “Who hit you, Betty?”

Betty just shook her head at him. She didn’t want to talk about her parents at that moment. She just wanted to be with him. “Can I stay here for a little while?”

“Of course,” he said. He took her hand and led her over to the door and dug his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

That was when Betty noticed it. He smelled…he smelled of sweat and spit and musk. It was a scent that Betty had no personal experience with but she could deduce its nature nonetheless.

“Juggie, you…you smell like…”

“Sex, Betty,” he said, his eyes locked in on hers, “I smell like sex.”

It was Betty’s turn to work at swallowing. She didn’t know how to reply to his bluntness, so she nodded. Jughead pushed a harsh breath out through his nose and let his forehead drop against the motel room door with a _thunk_.

He closed his eyes, “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“No!” Betty exclaimed. Fear ratcheted in her heart and she wrapped bother of her small hands around his wrist to keep him close, “No! It’s not. I don’t care, Juggie. I really don’t. I just want to be near you. Please don’t send me away.”

Her words brought his gaze to hers and they stood and stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Then, Jug gave a wordless nod, unlocked the door and pushed it open to let her precede him into the room.

Betty pulled off her coat and watched as Jughead did the same with his. Then, he pulled out his wallet and removed a fifty-dollar bill. He handed it to her and said, “Here. Order us a pizza or something. I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and left Betty alone with her thoughts. She looked around the room. It was just as she remembered it, not that she had expected much to change in the span of a day. Still, there was something so comforting about being there, being surrounded by his things. The sound of the shower starting up drew her attention. She could hear Jughead moving around in the bathroom and then she heard the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back and forward as he no doubt stepped in under the spray.

For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, Betty decided to go with her instincts. So, in the middle of his hotel room, she stripped off her sweater, jeans and underwear and entered the bathroom.

Jughead didn’t jump when Betty entered the shower behind him. He turned and stared at her as the hot water beat into the muscles of his shoulders and back. She stood before him, naked and vulnerable and so damn beautiful it hurt his soul. She bit down on her lower lip and looked up at him from under those long, thick lashes. And so…Jughead reacted.

He took one step forward, caught hold of her by the back of the neck and dragged her against him in a ferocious kiss. He was not gentle and asking as he had been previously, but he took what he needed from her. He thought about his own desires for once in his damn life and what he desired was packaged in this vivacious, sweet, innocent blonde who seemed to want him just as much as he wanted her. She tangled her hands in his wet hair and moaned as he soothed the split in her lip with his tongue. She ran those delicate little hands over his water slicked back and when he felt her shiver against him, he pulled her under the spray with him to warm her.

He pressed his hardness into the softness of her belly, but aside from that motion, he did not push for sex. Sex wasn’t what either of them craved as they stood together naked under the showerhead. Rather, they basked in the intimacy of the moment, the closeness of each other’s bodies. That was enough.

That was everything.

Jughead lathered and rinsed her hair with his shampoo. He let Betty soap and cleanse his own aching body. He noticed when her eyes lingered on the bite-shaped bruises that littered his shoulders and chest…but she didn’t ask. Instead, she pressed her forehead into his sternum and enveloped him in the sweetest embrace he’d ever had.

When they’d finished their shower, Jughead climbed out first, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Betty’s shoulders before he helped her to step out of the tub. The domesticity of it all was like punch to the gut.

A welcome, loved punch that he wanted to receive for the rest of his life.

Betty settled herself in the center of the bed to call and order their pizza. Jughead was running a towel over his hair when he heard his phone buzz.

PL32: Hi, handsome. Are you free?

Jug looked from his phone screen over to where Betty lounged on his bed clad in one of his tee shirts and clean pair of his boxers. He couldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t leave her.

J: Not tonight. Tomorrow.

PL32: Looking forward to it.

He crossed the room and climbed into the bed where Betty immediately attached herself to him. The night was the best he'd ever had, bar none. They ate pizza in bed and laughed at the ridiculous plot to some teen blockbuster from two or three years ago. He could drown in the sound of Betty's warm giggle. He wasn't sure how he'd lasted so long without it in his life. She was part of him now, in his mind, in his life, in his blood. When they finally turned the lights out, she snuggled into his arms and every so often, dotted kisses along his neck, lips and jaw. They weren't passionate kisses like they'd exchanged in the shower, but sweet, comforting little pecks designed to assure him and possibly herself that she was there. She was in his arms. She wasn't going anywhere. It was to the unsteady rhythm of those sporadic kisses that he fell asleep, wrapped around Betty Cooper like kudzu vine. 

He woke at 4am as Betty fumbled around the room to gather her clothing.

“What are you doing?” he asked, groggy and fighting the sleep that tied to pull him back under, “It’s still dark.”

“I know, but I have to get home before my parents wake up,” she said and knelt on the bed to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’ll see you in a couple of hours at school.”

He kissed her back, tried to pull her back under the covers with him, and laugh as she did. She peppered his face with a few more kisses and then he walked her to her car and watched her back out of the parking lot.

He smiled as he fell back asleep. He smiled as he woke and brushed his teeth. He smiled for the entire drive to Riverdale High. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

Until Betty didn’t show up for class. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I don't know what all to say. This chapter got away from me a little. Some things happened that I didn't even expect, but that's how it goes sometimes! Please let me know what you think!!! Leave a comment! Leave a kudos! 
> 
> Give me your thoughts, feelings and feedback. I crave them like air!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead is desperate to make sure that Betty is okay...that Betty is ALWAYS okay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four Song Choice : "Tomorrow" by Daughter

Chapter Four :

A single, solitary text was all that he’d received. Just before the start of his second period, his phone had buzzed.

B. Coop: I won’t be at school today. I started feeling sick. I’ll see you Monday.

This bothered him on a multitude of levels. First; sick? She had been feeling fine when she had left him. She had been smiling and laughing and sunshine personified. No one slipped into illness that quickly. Second; Betty was not one to miss school. Ever. She just wasn’t. And lastly; Monday? She’d see him Monday? It was Friday. Did she think she could avoid him for the entire weekend? Fuck that.

_Fuck that!_

That was how, when lunchtime rolled around, he tracked down the only person he knew would be able to give him some answers. When Jughead found the raven-haired Park Avenue princess, she was perched on the lap of Archibald Andrews, the good-hearted if somewhat simple-minded jock that Jughead had played with as a child.

He didn’t bother with a greeting or any of the other expected social niceties. Instead, he went for the direct approach. “Do you know what’s going on with Betty?”

Veronica Lodge blinked her dark cat-eyes up at him, “Easy, there, Midnight Cowboy. Hello to you, too.”

His jaw clinched so tight he was a little surprised that he didn’t crack a molar and he felt his nose twitch in an involuntary snarl. “Betty? Where is she? Do you know?”

“Calm down, Jughead. She’s fine. She’s just sick.”

“Everything okay, Ronnie?” Archie asked.

“It’s fine, Archikins.”

“Bullshit. Betty doesn’t miss school. And she was _fine_ this morning!”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “And how exactly do you know how she was this morning?”

That’s not really any of your concern, majesty,” Jug spat at her.

“ _Anything_ having to do with Betty is my concern, you gigalo!”

“Look wicked bitch of the west village, I don’t really care what you think your concern is, or what information you think you’re _entitled_ to right now. If Betty wants to tell you what went down, that’s fine. I don’t care. But it’s up to her. You won’t get it from me,” his tone softened and Veronica’s gaze warmed at his words, “I’m worried about her.” 

He watched as the brunette pressed her lips together and shared a look with her red-haired beau. When she turned back to Jughead, her expression was significantly kinder, “Look, when she didn’t meet me at the door this morning, I called her. She didn’t answer. She text me back a few minutes later to say that she wasn’t feeling great and that she wouldn’t be here today. I, too, thought that was very unlike my B so I text her back to ask if there was anything else wrong. She said no. Said she felt like she’d caught a stomach bug and planned to stay in bed all weekend. I dropped it.”

“You really think Cooper could be taken down by a stomach bug?”

Archie raised his brown, “He has a point, Ronnie.”

“You think I don’t know that!” Veronica hissed, “Of course, I know that.” Her eyes darted back and forth between Jughead and Archie before she licked her lips and continued, “Especially when I offered to come by with chicken soup and she said no. Something about not wanting to get me sick too.”

“C’mon, Veronica,” Jughead said barely above a whisper, “V?”

Veronica’s face hardened at the name, “Careful, asshat. B may had a soft spot for you but I don’t know you.”

Despite the words, she pulled a receipt and a pen from the mysteries of her purse and scribbled a few lines. She handed it to Jughead. Betty’s address.

“Her parents aren’t usually home until six.” She said.

Jughead flicked the flimsy paper with his forefinger and took off. He wasn’t gonna waste another second in school until he knew that Betty was okay. He spun on his heel and walked backwards for a few steps in order to call out, “Oh, tell your mom I said hi.”

The last thing he heard was a shrill “What!?!” 

He eased his bike to stop outside of the large colonial style home on Elm Street. He pulled the helmet from his head and took a moment to look around. Crisp green lawns were being watered with automatic sprinklers. Three houses down, a man in his early seventies was cruising around his front yard on a riding mower. Three elder women in neon tracksuits were power walking around a curb in the distance. It seemed a bit cool to Jughead for any of the activities that he saw, but then he had never lived in a place that looked straight out of a fifties sitcom either.

He took the stone steps two at a time to the bright red door and pounded on it with a closed fist while he simultaneously rang the doorbell. Overkill? Maybe.

But he had a bad feeling in his gut and after the life that he led; he had learned to trust his gut. When no one answered after a few more knocks, he hopped off the porch and worked his way around the house. He was sure he looked like a hoodlum that was casing the joint, but he really didn’t give a shit. He needed to see Betty. He needed to know that she was okay.

Around the side of the house, he spotted floral curtains through a second story window and an old, rusty metal ladder beside a toolshed. He didn’t even hesitate. Nice, sweet, safe little neighborhood like this, he figured his odds of an unlocked window were 50/50. After all, nothing truly _bad_ happened in Riverdale, right? Balanced precariously on the wobbly ladder, Jughead dug his fingertips into the crevice between the window frame and sill and strained upward. There was an initial resistance that gave way with a satisfying _crack_ and after the window slid open with an ease that bespoke of years upon years of excessive use.

Mindful of the dirt caked on the tread of his boots, he pulled them from his feet and left them on the window ledge while he took in the room. It was common sense as much as instinct that told him the less evidence that existed to point out his presence, the better off he’d be.

Once he sank his socked feet into the plush carpet, he took a long moment to look around the empty, darkened bedroom. It wasn’t Betty’s. That much was blaringly obvious. Her older sister’s more than likely. The walls were a deep purple with a lighter purple (lavender?) accents. It was clean, but musky – as though it hadn’t been opened up in a while. It was actually a little eerie in Jughead’s opinion. The vanity was all but bare; only a few lipstick tubes and mostly empty perfume bottles remained. The closet door had been left slightly ajar and was ¾ empty with not a spare clothing hanger in sight. The bed at the center of the room was childish in design and pristinely made save for the overturned stuffed giraffe in the midst of all the fluffy purple pillows. The room had an overall feel of abandonment, like someone had packed up quickly with no intention to ever return to it.

He snagged his shoes in hand, shoved the window down and crept to the bedroom door. He wanted to get the hell out of this ghost-room.

Once he cracked open the entry, he peeked his head out to scan his surroundings. The hallways was deserted, the house was completely still and quiet with the exception of a distant _tick-tock_ of a clock that came from somewhere on the first level. He panned his gaze along with long hall of pictures and art and small tables with bright flower arrangements before it finally came to rest on the doorway directly across from the one in which he stood. He couldn’t bite back a grin as he took in the large, sparkly “B” that decorated it. Jughead crossed the passage to it and with as much care as he could muster, eased the door open to peer in the room.

The lights were off in this room as well. However, in the center of the queen-sized bed, a Betty shaped lump was buried beneath the covers. He pushed into the room dropped his boots by the door and looked around. He could see Betty in every nook and cranny, but on top of her brilliant presence, he could also see the ridiculous pressure that was always being put upon her. Pressure from her herself, her friends, her family and fucking _everyone_! They all wanted something from her; they all wanted a piece of her and it pissed him off!

His jaw clinched, he stomped past the numerous awards, commendations and motivational posters that assured her that perfection was within her grasp if she just worked a little bit harder. He dropped down into a crouch by her bedside and touched a hand to the dip of her waist.

On a surprised gasp of breath, Betty looked over her shoulder at him and then turned away against just as fast.

“What are you doing here, Jug?” she asked from deep within her little cocoon.

Jughead squeezed his hand on her, kneaded a little at her tense form, “I wanted to check on you. People don’t usually get sick the quickly. At least you don’t.”

“Well, I did. You’re very sweet and I appreciate the thought. I’m sure it’s just a bug or something and I’ll better in a few days. You should go now.”

“You anxious to get rid of me, Cooper? Why don’t you scoot over and let me crawl in there with you?”

“No!” she shouted and Jughead stiffened, “I mean – I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Right, right. Wouldn’t want that.” He said, “Why don’t you turn over and look at me, Betty.”

“Please, go away.”

“Not until you look at me,” he leaned forward and touched a hand to the top of her golden head and felt a bone-deep tightening in his chest when she reacted by curling further in on herself. She all of the sudden seemed so small; so incredibly, devastatingly small and alone. He didn't want her to ever feel alone. She had him. All of him. Forever. 

“Baby,” he breathed, “it’s me.”

Her knotted up body seemed to relax just a little at his words and the relief that rushed through him at that was beyond anything he could ever begin to describe. Oh-so-slowly, she began to roll in the bed to face him.

Even in the dim light, he could see the swelling. Jug reached over and clicked on her bedside lamp and was assaulted by the full force of what had happened to her.

The left side of her face was puffy and swollen, the skin darkened, both of her eyes were purple and bruised and the split in her lip from the night before was reopened and an angry red. Someone had not only hit this precious being, they had beaten the hell out of her. 

Betty blinked against the onslaught of light and willed her eyes to adjust quickly so she could see Jughead. She didn't want him to see her like this, but at the same time the idea of seeing his face was too much of a comforting temptation to pass up. When she was finally able to open her eyes all the way, she almost wished she hadn’t. He was staring at her face, eyes wide and mouth agape. Then, his jaw snapped shut and his entire body went rigid. He pushed away from the bed and stormed over to her closet; he almost took the door off the hinges when he flung it open. He started yanking her clothes out and tossing them onto the foot of her bed.

Betty scrambled out from under the covers to his side, “Juggie?”

“You’re not staying here,” he snarled, “You’re not spending one more fucking minute in this hellhole. I’m taking you away-"

Her initial knee-jerk reaction to his statement was one of agreement. She wanted him to take her away! He could be her prince charming knight in shining leather on a fiery black metal steed and they could ride away into the Riverdale sunset together with an amen and a hallelujah. But as it usually did, reality and practicality crashed into her brain on the tail end of that beautiful fantasy like an evil, mean spirited shadow demon. 

“Juggie,” Betty pleaded as she grabbed his arms and tried to stop his movement, “Juggie, stop. Jug, you can’t.”

“The hell I can’t!”

“Jug!” she bellowed, “Jug, you’ll make it worse!”

He stilled at that and looked at her. Betty stepped away from him and sank down onto the bed, dropped her face into her palms. In a blink, Jughead was on his knees in front of her, his hands on her elbows.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he breathed and pressed his forehead to her knees, “I’m so sorry. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you need.”

Betty pulled her hands from her face and slipped her fingers into his thick, glorious hair. It still kind of took her aback that she was allowed to do such a thing. He was such a wonder. Did he even know how magnificent he was? With the smallest movement, he made her feel stronger, smarter, invincible. She became a better woman merely by being in his presence. His confidence her reinforced her confidence in herself. The thought brought a somewhat painful smile to her lips. Jug looked up at her, his green eyes glistened with tears that refused to fall.

“Tell me what happened.”

So she did.

She told him how she had gotten home that morning and climbing into her bedroom window…where her father had sat waiting for her. Hal Cooper hadn’t demanded an explanation as to her whereabouts, nor had he given her the chance to try a formulate one. He had simply lunged for her.

She couldn’t remember the initial blows to her face. All that she really remembered was that she had tasted blood. She had tried to make it to the door, but he had shoved her. She had hit the corner of her desk hard. There was a bruise from the bottom of her ribs down to her hip from that misfortune. He had held her to the ground by her hair and slapped her so many times that she lost count. The last thing she remembered was her father had wrapped one large hand around her throat for just a second before he seemed to come to his senses. He backed away from her then and left the room without ever having uttered a word.

Betty had lain there in the middle of her floor, a mess of tears and spit and blood. That was the state that her mother had come into the room and found her in.

“Really, Elizabeth,” she had said, “you brought this on yourself. Get up. Get in bed. You can stay home today. Really, what would people say? I’ll call the school and let them know you’re not coming.”

Once Betty had changed into pajama shorts and a tee shirt, Alice had slapped a damp washcloth in her hand and left her in bed. Honestly, it had been more than Betty had expected from her.

She relayed all of this to Jughead with as little emotion as she could manage.

“Baby,” he said with obvious effort to keep his voice calm, “you can’t stay here. Please-“

“Jug-“

“Please, let me take you away.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“No, you can’t!” she exclaimed tearfully and grabbed his cheeks with both hands to force him to look directly into her eyes, “They will find us… and they’ll charge you with kidnapping and I’ll lose you. I _can’t lose you_.”

“Shh,” he cooed, “shh. Okay, baby, okay.”

He moved to sit on the bed beside her and curled an arm around her. Betty didn’t hesitate. She crawled into his lap and wrapped around him, needing to be as close as possible, she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. How, in such a small seemingly inconsequential amount of time could one person change her life so? How had he become everything. Betty didn't k ow how. All she knew was that he had. She tightened her hold on his neck. He in turn locked his arms around her waist and held her to him. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed deep.

“So, what do we do?” he asked and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“They want me to stay away from you. They threatened to send me to the deranged nuns at Sisters of Quiet Mercy if I don’t.” The tears fell in steady streams down her cheeks and she couldn’t seem to get her breathing under control.

“God amighty.”

“I don’t know what to do, Juggie,” she said, “I want to see you. I _need_ to see you the same way I need air to breathe, but if they catch me again…”

“Okay,” he said and eased her back away from him so he could see her face, “we’ll just have to be more careful in how we see each other. Maybe we limit ourselves to school-“

“No!”

“Or school hours. Something. We’ll figure it out, okay.”

“I need to hold you.”

Baby,” he said, “believe me, I know. I need to hold you, too. But I can’t let this happen to you again. Not because of me.”

“We’ll figure something out?”

“Of course. With my street smarts and that big, brilliant brain of yours, your asshole family doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

She nodded, desperate to believe the words that he was saying, “Okay. Alright, okay.”

“And as for the future,” he said, his tone more serious than she thought she had ever heard him before, “when do you turn eighteen?”

“Two months.”

“In two months, we put this fucking town in our rearview mirror and we _never_ look back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here is the thing. I have recently become utterly captivated by this theory that Bret is obsessed with Jughead. And now that I have seen it, I can't unsee it! I kind of want to write a little story about it. Would anyone be interested in reading that. Bret as the stalker? Kind of like 'You' but the bad guy doesn't freaking win!?! Tell me your thoughts!
> 
> Oh, and obviously, please tell me your thoughts on this chapter. Was it too mellow-dramatic? It felt right! 
> 
> You can also see I have added another chapter to the count. I just don't think I can get everything that I want to include in just one more chapter so I am giving myself some wiggle room. Hope you don't mind! 
> 
> Anyway! As always, I crave your feedback more than anything else. Leave a comment, leave a kudos, tell me your innermost thoughts!!! Pretty please with cherries and sugar on top! Kisses to all, bye now!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jug plan for the future... and are given an eye-opener to the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a bit...and sorry this chapter is so short. But it is heavy. Important things happen. 
> 
> Chapter Five Song : "Black Wave" by K. Flay

Chapter Five :

After that weekend, Betty experienced both the best and the worst moments of her life seemingly simultaneously. She had always walked on eggshells at home, but after the beating that her father had given her that night, it seemed she’d started walking on them barefoot.

Her bruises faded enough as to be easily hidden beneath foundation, powder, and concealer. The physical evidence of that night was simple enough to cover. The mental anguish would be more difficult. There was a tension in the house. It made the very air thick and difficult to breathe. Betty was always on edge and she felt as though her father’s eyes were always on her; even when she was alone in her bedroom she could _feel_ him watching her. Her mother smiled and sneered and made comments about Betty’s weight as she had always done…as though nothing had happened at all.

Every movement was calculated, every word from her mouth was thought out and planned, every conversation was a mental chess-match. Her house was a psychological war-zone where she had to be on constant guard, always vigilant, always one step ahead of the enemy, her parents. A house didn’t make a home and the structure that she lived in certainly proved that saying. A home should be warm and welcoming, a place of comfort and safety. Hers was everything but.

Her home-life had morphed from merely unpleasant to a nightmarish prison where she avoided eye contact, didn’t speak unless spoken to, and hid away in her bedroom the majority of the time. It was a prison from which the only respite came in the form of the school day.

School. Therein lay the other side of things; the best parts of her life. When she guided her battered, hand-me-down car into the parking lot of Riverdale High, she knew that waiting for her just through those double doors was a tall, dark-haired, green-eyed, beautiful disaster of a man who was her ticket to salvation…just as she was his.

Jughead never met her in the parking lot. Betty was terrified that someone who would willingly report back to her mother would see them and after the way that Jughead had found her bruised and bloodied in her bedroom, he wasn’t willing to take the chance. So instead, he always waited for her right inside the door with a cup of coffee for himself in one hand and what he referred to as gross sugar milk for her.

Even within the school though, he was paranoid. He never greeted her with a kiss no matter how badly she wanted him to… and she did. With an almost desperation. Rather, morning after morning, day after day, he handed her coffee to her and then walked beside her down the hall to their first class. Along the way, they would deliberately ignore the curious stares they received as the unlikely pair that they were.

It was funny, Betty had always felt invisible. It was only after she had been seen by Jughead that she started to feel the eyes of everyone else. That happened, and all she wanted was to go back to being invisible, only with him by her side.

Betty would usually provide him with some kind of baked breakfast pastry or burrito, which he would devour in a few bites. Then they would pay attention in class and act as if nothing in their lives had changed.

But at lunch, Jughead would pull her into a little used custodian’s closet under the stairs.

‘He’s impatient today,’ Betty thought to herself when Jug yanked her through the doorway by the wrist and slammed it behind them. He didn’t say a word when he flipped the lock and pushed her up against the door then pressed him mouth to hers in a hungry, needy kiss.

“Jug,” she breathed as he trailed kissed down her jawline to her neck, “Jug, slow down…”

“I can’t,” he mumbled against her skin, “I’ve wanted you all day. I thought about you all night. As soon as you walked in I wanted to drag you in here with me.”

Betty smiled, “Why didn’t you?”

He leaned away from her, his eyes bright with lust and delight and mischief, “You know why. Doesn’t change the impulse or the fact that I wanted to. You don’t know how hard it is to keep my hands off of you all damn day.”

“Yes, I do,” she said and slid her own fingers through his dark tufts of hair, “because I have to keep mine off of you, too.”

“Two months,” he lean forward again and hissed against the side of her neck.

“One and three quarters,” she corrected with a little smile.

He tilted back with a matching grin and cupped her face in his hands, “Do you know I’d do anything for you?”

Betty didn’t answer him. She just tipped forward on her toes and bit down on his pouting lower lip. She ran her hand down his chest to the front of his jeans where she felt him stiff and hard through the rough material. Her fingers grasped at the first button of his pants only to be stopped when his larger hand caught her by the wrist and pulled her away.

That wasn’t the first time he had done such a thing. They hadn’t had sex. They had kissed; deeply, extensively, all-encompassing. He had touched her, petted her, stroked her, and taken her to heights that she’d never imagined possible.

But he never let her touch him.

She leaned away from him, unable to hide her disappointment.

“Why don’t you want me?” Betty asked, her eyes so wide and sad it damn near gutted him.

“Baby,” Jughead breathed and caught her face between both of his hands, “I do want you. You know I want you. God, I go crazy for you.”

“Then why won’t you be with me?” she asked.

How could he explain it to her? He wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped her forehead against the sharp bone of her clavicle. He wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t worthy of touching her. She was so sweet and good and pure and he was…he was a fucking gigolo. He was too dirty to be with her.

But he would be better. She’d gotten into NYU; a full ride because she was so brilliant. She’d gotten accepted into Yale as well, which was where her parents thought she would be attending under the continued control of their financial support. They had no idea about her scholarship and acceptance to NYU; nor would they until she was already gone.

Once they graduated, he’d pack up and take her to New York where he would be better. He could be a good man for her; he _would_ be a good man for her. He’d get a job, a real one. He’d cover rent and food while she focused on her education; he could take care of her and prove to her that he could be something.

He lay away nights and thought about it. The life that he could build for her, the home. Once he got her away from those monsters that brought her into the world, he would show her just how good life could be. He’d provide for her. He’d protect her. He’d take care of her. Once he had her away from this damned town and all to himself, she would want for nothing.

Including sex.

Dear God, he’d give her all the sex she desired and then some.

He pulled back and looked into those ocean eyes of hers, “Soon, baby.”

“Tell me why,” Betty said, her eyes narrowed and filled with the fire of determination. God, he loved that look.

“I…I’m not…”

“Don’t even go there, Jughead Jones,” she snarled, “ _You_ are everything good in my life. The _only_ thing good in my life.”

“It won’t always be like this,” Jughead began and he ran his hands over every part of her that he could touch; her arms, her hair, her waist, her face, “we’ll get away from this cursed town and I can be something…better than what I am.”

“What you are is amazing,” Betty said and cupped her small, beautiful hands to his jaw, “I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you.”

The warning bell rang. 

Jughead traced a fingertip along the line of her nose, “Back to class, Cooper.”

Betty opened her mouth the respond when the second warning bell chimed. She looked over her shoulder at the door, then back to Jughead, “We’re not done with this conversation.”

Jughead leaned forward and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to her lips and then ushered her through the door.

Jughead watched her scramble down the hall toward her next class and felt as though a stone had settled into the pit of his stomach. He felt like he wanted to cry, but he shook it off, squared his shoulders, and started his usual saunter through the halls. Things would get better. All he had to do was stick to his plan.

He’d make as much money as he could, graduate, take Betty to New York, and then…then he’d find the way to become worthy of her. He’d find a way to earn her love.

Betty slid into the seat of her desk and tried not to cry. It seemed to her that she had always lived for _someday_. Someday had come in the form of a tall, leather-clad diamond in the rough and it destroyed her that he couldn’t see how amazing he was.

Yes, he was damaged. But then so was she. Hell, who wasn’t these days? But together, the broken pieces of their souls could fit together to make something more than what they were alone. Together, they could be whole. They could…alive.

Halfway through his last period, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Several times in quick succession.

GM37 : I need you.

GM37 : Now.

GM37 : I’ll pay double if you can be here in five minutes.

As she made her way through the empty hall toward the Blue and Gold, Betty spotted Jughead at the far end. She felt the smile split her face as she opened her mouth to call out for him to wait up. But he slipped into a classroom before she could say anything. Her heart sped up at the thought of a few more minutes with him before the end of the day and she quickened her pace to match.

She all but skipped down the hall in his wake. She took just a moment to primp a little when she reached the door; licked her lips, pinched her cheeks pink; and smoothed a hand over her ponytail. Eyes bright and smile fixed, she grabbed the classroom door handle in burst through.

Jughead sat in a chair, the waist of his unfastened jeans around his thighs. Straddling his lap with her skirt rucked up to her hips was Geraldine Grundy. Her long, spindly fingers were twisted in the thick black hair that Betty so loved as she moaned and grinded herself against him. Betty’s hand flew to her mouth to muffle her gasp as those green eyes that she adored locked on her own, stricken in alarm.

Grundy shrieked in panic as she clambered off of Jug’s lap and straightened her clothes. Betty spun on her heel and fled for the horror.

“Betty!” she heard Jughead’s voice crack from behind her, his footfalls heavy against the cheap linoleum flooring in his pursuit. She veered right and slammed through the door of the girls’ bathroom, hit her knees hard in a stall and emptied the contents of her stomach into a toilet just as the door banged against the wall when Jughead burst through.

Jughead found his life bent over a commode, retching up her lunch. He sank to his knees behind her and reached out to run his hand along her back.

She flinched away from his touch.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

“Betty…d-don’t pull away from me,” he rasped.

Betty sat back on her feet, wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and flushed the toilet with the other. She then twisted to sit on her rear and leaned back against the side of the stall.

“I’m so sorry you saw that,” Jughead said, “It was just…just business.”

Betty nodded but her eyes, her eyes that were always so vibrant and bright looked vacant; blank; lifeless.

She licked her chapped lips, “I guess…I guess _knowing_ that you had sex for money and… _seeing_ it with my own eyes are two very different things.”

“Is that it, then?” he asked, the words tasting vile and bitter on his tongue, “Are you done with me?”

He figured she was. He should have known that something as good as her would have an expiration date. In what world could he have ever gotten to keep a girl like Betty Cooper?

“Of course I’m not done with you, Jughead. I love you. I just need a minute to process.”

Jughead’s heard stopped. “What did you say?”

“I need a minute-“

“Not that.”

Her gaze turned to him and then softened, “Oh, Jughead. I love you. Of course, I love you. How could I not? You’re so good and kind and caring-“

He caught her by the back of the neck and dragged her across the tile and into his lap. He leaned to kiss her but she twisted away and he felt the knife in his stomach twist again.

Until she groaned, “Juggie—I just threw up.”

He chuckled, “I don’t care.”

“I do,” she said and tucked her head under his chin, wrapped her arms and legs around his body and made like she wanted to burrow into his chest.

Jughead held her tight against him and ran his fingers through her glossy blonde hair, “I’m so sorry , Betty. I never wanted—you said that I was the only good thing in your life. Well, that goes both ways, Cooper. Somehow, everything in my universe has come to revolve around you. I’d do anything for you. I love you, too, Betty Cooper.”

“Jughead?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“I don’t like your job.”

He laughed without humor, “Neither do I.”

“Then we should do something about that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay... so that's it for now. Almost to the end. Please let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end... and the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is the finale of this story! 
> 
> So... at this point, I am pretty much done with Riverdale as a show. But I love these characters so much that I am nowhere near done writing about them. LOL. So, to hell with cannon and if you'll keep reading my stuff, I'll keep writing about the beauty that is Bughead. You can see the end for more of my ranting and also my thoughts on a new story.
> 
> Song Choice for Chapter 6 : "Helium" by Sia

Chapter Six :

Having seen that girl, that ray of golden sunshine in his otherwise bleak existence, crumpled in a heap on the cheap tiles of a dirty high school restroom was the final straw; the straw that brought the leather wearing, cigarette smoking camel to his knees. A vision of returning to his life without her in it thundered through his mind like a deadly stampede.

He knew intrinsically that the look he had seen on her face when she had entered that classroom to Grundy perched on his lap would haunt him for the remainder of his life and he would rather end it all than _see_ that look again, let along be the cause of it.

Things had to change.

The very first thing he did was get a new phone. Anybody who tried to reach his old number received an ‘out of service’ message and by God, wasn’t that fucking poetic?

Turning his life around did present one small problem however. His meager savings account would be quickly depleted by those little luxuries he had become accustomed to. You know, rent—and food. Little things.

If he was going to survive and escape with Betty, he had to work.

And so Jughead found himself poised to knock on the flimsy door of the Andrews’ Construction office/trailer.

He rapped his knuckles against the door and a moment later stood face to face with a specter from his childhood.

Fred Andrews had always been a good man. Jughead could recall vague memories of sandwiches passed to him from a ladder as he and Archie Andrews had played in a tree fort, iodine and band-aids applied to scraped knees and elbows with calloused but gentle hands, and the world’s kindest eyes boring into his own and asking if he was okay when he’d turned up with a black eye and dried blood under his nose.

That was a past life though and Jug wondered if the man before him would remember him, let alone recognize him.

The thought was answered before it had fully formed.

“Jughead!” Fred exclaimed, “My God, look at you! Almost grown up, aren’t you?”

Jughead couldn’t have held in the smile if he’d tried. Fred just brought that response out in people.

“How’ve you been?” Fred asked.

“Surviving,” Jughead answered, “as always.”

“Come on in,” Fred invited, guiding Jughead into the trailer and shutting the door, “What can I do for you, son?”

Son.

It was such a simple word for Fred.

“I, uh,” Jughead to speak around the lump that had tightened in his throat, “well, I wanted see if maybe you had a job open.”

“A job?” Fred said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against his desk, “You eighteen already? I thought you were one of the younger kids in your grade.”

“I am. I’ll be eighteen in October.”

“God, I’m getting old,” he ran a hand over his hair, “You graduate this year with Arch, right?”

“I’ll take anything. Part-time. Nights. Anything you got. I just…I need the mo…” Jughead trailed off and then decided for flat out honesty, “I need help.”

“How can I help you, Jug?”

And then it all came out.

All of it.

He told Fred everything starting with his father’s abuse, his mother’s abandonment, the time he spent homeless, and the predatory woman who took advantage of a scared, hungry fifteen-year-old kid. He left out her identity but nothing else.

And then he told him about Betty. Fred hissed when Jughead told him about the state that he had found her in after her father had beaten her.

Jughead talked for an hour straight and by end of it, he was curled on a tattered old sofa wrapped in the embrace of the greatest father he had ever known as he sobbed like a child into the man’s flannel. There was no judgment in Fred’s eyes when Jughead told him how he had been surviving, no pity. Only compassion.

As seemed to be his preternatural gift, Fred saw straight through Jughead’s sardonic bullshit and self-loathing right to the heart of the matter. Fred saw the frightened, trembling boy trying with desperation to stand on his own and be a man; a man who could protect the woman that had chosen to see his worth and love him.

And Fred Andrews being Fred Andrews was determined that he would help that man become.

Fred was honest with him. He flat out told him that it wouldn’t be easy, to which Jug simply replied “Since when is anything ever?”

When their conversation was over, Jughead had an official job with Andrews’ Construction. He’d be working after school, occasionally before school, and on weekends. He’d be hauling cement, hanging drywall, lugging lumber, and knowing Fred, he’d end doing less labor intensive things like fetching coffee whenever he felt the kid needed a break in a life where he’d had so few. On top of the job, Fred put his hand on Jug’s shoulder and made him an offer that had the younger man’s throat constricting, chin trembling, and tears streaming silently from his weary lidded eyes.

“I don’t much like the idea of you in that hotel, Jug. I have an old cot. It’s lumpy and not the softest, but it’s seen me through some rough times. Let me set you up in one of the trailers onsite. That way I’m just down the road if you need me…and I know that you’re safe.”

Betty was unfamiliar with this feeling of peace and contentedness that seemed to be running rampant through her entire being. She was so accustomed to tension and anxiety twisting her insides into knots, she didn’t really know what to do with the sense of, for lack of a better word, bliss that had come over her at being loved by Jughead.

She had wanted to cry with joy when, after his cell had continued to buzz incessantly as they sat tangled up in each others’ arms on that disgusting bathroom floor, he’d pulled it from his jeans’ pocket and hurled it against the wall, not only silencing it but shattering it to pieces. Then, with her hand clasped in his and zero fucks given to who saw them, he led her from the school building to the nearest Sprintz Store where he disconnected his old number and purchased a new number and phone – in which Betty was the first contact added.

She didn’t think she had stopped smiling since. It was nice to be someone’s first priority for a change, maybe for the first time in her life.

She did, however, keep her good mood and newly found optimism under lock and key when she was at her parents’ house. She didn’t think of it as ‘home.”

No.

Jughead was her home.

But the house that she lived in was a dangerous place. In hind-sight, she was lucky no one had mentioned her little cell-phone field trip with Jughead to her mother. She couldn’t take that kind of a risk again. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t free yet.

If they caught wind of her relationship, her parents could make serious trouble for Jughead. He was from the South Side of Riverdale, the town where bias, classism, and prejudice ran wild. No one would side with him. They’d have him locked up and her committed before anyone could even blink.

And so, at her parents’ house, she tempered her smiled. She bit her tongue. She did her chores, she did her homework, and she only spoke when spoken to. She had always felt invisible before she had crashed into Jughead’s orbit, so she used that skill to her advantage. She just had to get through a few more weeks.

Her eighteenth birthday was four days after graduation. Four days after graduation and they could never touch her again.

She couldn’t let her elation at that knowledge show. She couldn’t let her parents know that she was no longer under their thumb. They were vindictive and sadistic and if there was one thing that they truly enjoyed, it was the attempt to completely break her spirit.

Instead, she kept her gaze turned down and her mouth shut. She sat quietly and let Hal berate her for being weak and simple; she chewed her dinner with calm resolve while Alive told her she was looking pudgy and needed to exercise. The whole time, she just kept her mind on that day in the not too distant future when she would ride away into the sunset with Jughead by her side. 

It was a rare sun-soaked day in Riverdale the day of the Senior Class graduation. Betty sat on the main stage wearing her blue robe and gold ribbon with the word ‘valedictorian’ on it. In the audience, her parents were sitting side-by-side with matching smiles that oozed paternal pride in their shining star of a daughter. Hypocrites.

But amongst the sea of blue that were her peers, Betty could a set of bright green eyes framed by an unruly lock of dark black hair peaking from beneath the Riverdale blue cap. It was _that_ smile that beamed with genuine pride that Betty focused on.

And when she stepped up the podium for her speech, she couldn’t help but notice how several of her classmates shifted, looked at their nails, yawned. They didn’t expect anything from her. Not the good girl with the Colgate smile and perfect grades who was as pink and beige as the clothing that she wore; not from the invisible girl.

And she smiled.

“To my senior class of Riverdale High,” she started, “as a species, most of us suck.”

Every gaze snapped up to look at her. Her parents’ smiles faltered. She saw Veronica hide a grin behind her hands and Kevin Keller stared with wide-eyed, gape mouthed glee. Jughead laughed gloriously loud throughout the wave of shock that went through that blue sea.

“We swaggered through the halls of Riverdale as though nothing and no one could touch us. We fed off the fears and insecurities of those we perceived to be weaker. We created what we believed was a _perfect_ existence, which is of course an illusion. That illusion is a dark tunnel in which we have spent our formative years. And the light at the end of that tunnel is _reality_.”

Now she had their attention. No one was checking their fingernails anymore.

“Reality is going to bitch slap some of you hard. And honestly, it’ll be nothing less than what you deserve. But for the rest of you, the _weaker ones_ , the real world will be your salvation. Because the thick skin that you developed in these halls to survive, that will carry over and only get stronger. _You_ will get stronger. _I_ will be stronger. And if we’re lucky,” she turned her gaze to Jughead, “you’ll find a survivor like you. Someone who is real and trustworthy and good that you can cling to. Someone who understands your broken pieces because, like a puzzle, they fit together with yours.”

Jughead smiled and blinked a slow, slumberous blink that made her heartbeat speed up.

“That said, everyone, strong or weak, thick skinned or thin, _everyone_ deserves a good day every once in a while. So let this be yours. Before the real world or menial jobs or grueling higher education that won’t serve you nearly as well as you think it will dolls out the harshness that this life really has to offer, take today to enjoy being young and, almost, carefree. If you’ve found your puzzle piece, spend the day with them. And congratulations on making it through high school, the first level of hell. Only eight more to go.”

There was a long moment of stunned silence before Veronica and Kevin lept to their feet applauding and screaming wildly. Jughead stood shortly after. And slowly the entire senior class was on their feet screaming and cheering.

That took Betty a little off-guard until it occurred to her. They were all so used to having everything sugar coated for them, that a dose of truth, even a truth as bitterly laced as hers. To them in that moment, it wasn’t something that she was throwing in their own faces. It was what they had always been thinking themselves but were guided to think differently by their own parents. This speech was for the older members of the audience who had been through exactly what she had described.

When she caught sight of her own parents and the thinly veiled anger on their faces, she knew it was really them and not her classmates the speech was directed at. Her parents thought that they were untouchable. Her parents fed on the pain of those they thought weak. Her parents were consumed by the tunnel vision of perfection.

_Perfection was an illusion_.

When they arrived at the house after the ceremony, her father slapped her across the face while her mother seethed about that “vulgar speech” and what “people must be thinking about them.”

Betty couldn’t bring herself to care. Even as her parents glared at her and blood trickled from her mouth, Betty smiled serenely before she turned and walked up the stairs. _Walked._ She didn’t run or scramble or try with desperation to get away. She walked away.

Over the next three days, her parents treated her with open hostility. She was pushed, shoved, slapped, berated, and threatened. The less she reacted, the worse she was treated. But she didn’t care.

Because even as she was being treated like a stray dog, she was packing up the few belongings she actually cared about. The most difficult part of those days was the lack of contact with Jughead.

He was busy. He was making arrangements. That knowledge helped her get through.

It was six am on the morning of her eighteenth birthday that Betty was awoken to the loud rumbling of an engine that needed a tune up but would run for a while yet. That sound brought a smile to her face. She all but leapt from her bed.

Her mother was halfway dressed for work. “What is that god-awful racket?” she demanded from her bedroom doorway.

Betty paid her no mind. She shimmied into a pair of blue jeans at the same time she was gobbing toothpaste on her toothbrush. She brushed with vigor as she shoved her toiletries, the last things she needed to pack, into a pale pink dop-kit.

She was at the top of the stairs with her three bags when her mother opened the front door.

On the other side stood Jughead in all his beauty and glory. Torn, faded blue –jeans, leather jacket, tasseled just-got-fucked hair, and that endearing, cocky, sideways grin.

“What the hell are you doing on my porch?” Alice demanded.

Jughead’s eyes darted up toward her, “I’m here to get my girl.”

Alice scoffed even as Betty grinned and started traipsing down the stairs.

Jughead didn’t think he had ever seen a more beautiful sight than when Betty breezed past Alice with her luggage without even a backwards glance. She didn’t acknowledge the vitriol that was spilling from her mother’s mouth with a look, a reply, even a snarky comeback. It showed not only an inner strength that Jughead admired to no end, it also showed Alice just how thoroughly her hold on her daughter was broken.

Betty tossed her bags into the back of the old beater truck that Jug had bought off of Fred Andrews. He secured them by the front tire of his motorcycle and opened the passenger door for her. About the time he was closing it with her tucked safely inside, Alice and Hal Cooper came spilling out of the Cooper residence screaming for Betty to stop being childish and insane and come back into the house. Jughead watched her wave cheerily at them as he started up the questionable engine and pulled away from the curb.

When they arrived in New York, Jughead led her to the small, horrible little apartment that he had secured for them, again with Fred’s help. He’d be eighteen soon and then he and Betty would be able to secure a place all themselves, but for the time he was so grateful that Fred Andrews existed.

The apartment was small, one bedroom. The only furniture was a second hand sofa, an old junker television set and a mattress on the floor of the bedroom.

To Betty and Jughead, it was paradise.

That night, Jughead paced the bedroom floor and waited for Betty to finish in the shower. He felt jittery, trembling, giddy with the knowledge that his life could begin now.

The bathroom door opened with a bellow of steam and Betty emerged wrapped in a towel.

And there it was. His life.

And this time he would not hesitate.

We no preamble, he cupped Betty by the back of the neck and dragged her against him and into the deepest, most soulful, all-encompassing kiss that he had ever experienced. He guided her down to the sad little mattress that suddenly felt like the most plush, decadent cushion in the world. He un-tucked the terry cloth towel from her body and threw it across the room even as she clawed his tee shirt from his torso. 

The heat emanated from Jughead’s body and seared into Betty’s fingertips as she traced them over his skin. He was everything. He trailed sucking, bruising kisses along her neck and down her chest. The gentle, warm suction of his mouth shot straight through her nerve endings and into her core.

When he pushed inside of her, there were lights and music and the overwhelming feeling of finally coming home. Of finding safety. Shelter.

Of the puzzle pieces finally coming together.

And the picture was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I hope you enjoyed this little story. Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> I have so many problems with how the show has handled the last couple of episodes. It seems like they basically took all of the character arch and development from that last three and half seasons and pretended that it didn't exist. I enjoyed the show because of its uniqueness. I enjoyed watching the people with strong, healthy relationships and friendships ban together against outside forces. This was more prevalent in the first two seasons, less in the third and then basically gone by the fourth (though I will admit to enjoying the prep school storyline.) What I am not interested in is watching another, and I cannot stress this enough, STEREOTYPICAL DRAMA WHERE THE FOCUS IS PARTNER SWAPPING. Not my thing. 
> 
> The cast of course are excellent. Lili Reinhart is a goddess, I am convinced of this. I would watch Cole Sprouse perform the dictionary. KJ, Camilla, Madelaine and Casey are all brilliant and again, I would watch them in any endeavor they choose to pursue. They are still one of the most talented, well cast ensembles I have ever seen. They cannot control the writing. 
> 
> So, prepare for many AU stories with these marvelous characters from me because I love them so and cannot bear to leave them!!! Of course I still have "Faithless Vengeance" to finish and I have a new idea for a one-shot and another, slightly sci-fi-ish multi chapter that I am plotting. Anybody interested?? Please let me know. 
> 
> Drop me a kudos and/or a comment. I adore every single snippet of feedback that I get. 
> 
> Kisses to all. Bye now.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that is what I have for this one so far. Please, please, please... leave a kudos, leave a comment to tell me what you think. Like I said, this is an idea that I couldn't shake so any feedback is so welcome and appreciated. 
> 
> Kisses to all! Bye now!


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